


Only You for Me

by blue_jack



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Multi, One-Sided Relationship, Pining, Threesome - F/M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 05:38:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_jack/pseuds/blue_jack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s okay.  I know what Tony says about me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only You for Me

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is for caitri. Congratulations on getting tenure, bb!!!!!!!!!! (I can’t believe you not only got me to write het, but threesome het at that. I think I’m still in shock.) 
> 
> Many thanks to the lovely tocourtdisaster for betaing.
> 
> Finally, there is NO actual sex between Steve and Tony in this one, so if you're looking for that, this is not the fic for you. I know, it's crazy.

“So, Stark, huh?” Clint says, slumping in the seat next to Steve and draping his arm across the back of his chair. “Interesting choice.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Steve says, turning away from where Tony’s gliding across the dance floor with his partner.

“Oh, come on, you’ve been watching him all night.”

“I don’t know—”

“You should just tell him. He’s not good with the subtle, that one.”

Steve looks into Clint’s eyes, which are too observant by half, and he tries to smile, but it feels twisted, stretching unnaturally across his face. “He doesn’t . . . he doesn’t notice me.”

“Are you kidding?” Clint asks, eyebrow going up. “Stark doesn’t do anything _but_ notice! He’s always talking about you, how you’re stubborn and sanctimon—” He clears his throat. “Um, how dependable you are in a fight and—” 

“It’s okay. I know what he says.” Steve glances back at Tony, and the two of them are laughing, his hand resting low on her back.

“This is a party, you know,” Natasha says as she steals Clint’s glass, settling next to him and taking a sip. “You’re supposed to be having fun.” 

“I drugged that,” Clint informs.

She shrugs. “You say that like I didn’t take a neutralizer before we left.”

“Is that what you were doing? I thought maybe you were trying out the new microphone they want us to use. Fine, fine, one point for you.” He rests his head against Natasha’s shoulder. “Whoever gets the most points by the end of the night get to pick the loser’s next assignment,” he explains to Steve. “I’m thinking strip club undercover work.”

“And I’m still deciding. Clint wearing nothing but a g-string and a leather harness has its appeal, but seeing him dressed in a Mickey Mouse costume and having to play nice with screaming kids all day might be winning out.”

Clint shudders. “You’re a sadist.”

“I love you, too, baby,” she says and presses her cheek to his hair.

“I should . . . I should get going,” Steve says awkwardly, starting to rise. Normally, he enjoys watches them together, seeing how easily they banter, the way they always seem to know what the other’s thinking, but it’s too hard tonight. 

“The night’s still young! Hang out for a little while.”

“No, really, I—”

“ _Sit_ ,” Natasha commands sternly, and Steve’s back in his chair before he realizes it. “What’s going on?”

“Steve’s pining for Tony,” Clint informs her, and he shrugs at the look Steve gives him. “She’s a spy; she was going to figure it out anyway. That’s a point for me, by the way, for figuring it out first.”

“I already suspected—” 

“Yeah, but I was the one who confronted him about it. It’s my point.”

“Oh, fine.” She pats Steve’s knee. “Sorry, he’s such a child about this sometimes. So what’s the problem? Tony likes men—”

“And he jumps just about anything that moves— _oof_ —”

“You’re not making this better, Clint,” she says as he rubs his side, glaring at her. “Are you worried about telling him how you feel?”

“He says that Tony doesn’t notice him. As if that’s possible! Have you seen the two of them in a room together?”

Steve goes back to watching Tony. They don’t need him for this conversation, and honestly, he’d rather not be part of it anyway. He knows what he knows.

Their voices lower as they argue, and he ignores the words, focusing instead on the effortless way Tony twirls his partner around, the sequins on her dress catching the light. He thinks wistfully that he’d still like to learn how to dance right before Clint’s voice raises enough for him to hear, “Well, how was I supposed to know?” and then Natasha is reaching over to hold his hand. 

“It’s not because of you. There’s a lot of history there with his father, and you’re a symbol, you’re—” 

“It’s alright,” he says, squeezing her hand. “You don’t need to explain. I understand.”

They sit like that for a few minutes, quiet and pensive, when Clint breaks the silence by saying, “You know, maybe what you need to do is dirty your image a little bit. Separate yourself from Captain America when you’re not wearing the gear.”

“I don’t know . . . .”

“No, Clint’s got the right idea.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Clint mutters.

Natasha ignores him. “Tony sees the icon and all that entails. What you have to concentrate on is changing his perception of you. Lose some of that rigidity. Make him see the man and not the hero.”

“How am I supposed to do that? He doesn’t even _talk_ to me when we’re not doing Avenger business,” Steve says plaintively.

“Well,” Clint says, shrugging. “I know one surefire way to get you to loosen up.”

\-----

“You think we should do _what_?” 

\-----

They start with hugging, Natasha in front of him and Clint behind. It’s nice, it’s . . . it’s more than he’s had in a long time.

It’d be easy to imagine that it’s Tony behind him instead of Clint. They’re close enough in height, and he can’t see Clint much, can just feel the strength in his arms and the rasp of his stubble, and—

Steve lets out a slow breath and pushes that thought firmly to the side, hugging them both even harder.

When Natasha kisses him, he sighs, closing his eyes, tasting lipstick and something smoother underneath. Clint lets out an encouraging sound and rubs his shoulders, pressing his lips to the back of Steve’s neck and making him shiver.

“Sensitive,” Clint says approvingly.

“Nice,” Natasha murmurs against his lips and does something with her fingers that draws a full-body shudder from him.

“Hey, Steve isn’t part of the competition!” Clint says, which Steve appreciates. He doesn’t know if he could take it. 

“Spoilsport.”

“Whatever, I was being nice giving you the front first! At least wait until everyone’s naked.”

“What—” Steve begins, but she silences him with another kiss.

Natasha and Clint work in tandem, taking off Steve’s clothes and their own, and they never leave him alone. Clint’s kisses are firmer than hers, stubble rubbing against Steve’s face, and he likes to grab Steve’s hair and hold him in place. Natasha lets him experiment more, subtle in her direction of his movements, but Steve has no doubt that she’s in charge. He doesn’t mind. It’s a relief to let them lead, to know that they’ll make sure he doesn’t ruin anything with his inexperience.

Natasha is gorgeous naked. He’s always known she was beautiful, but it was like seeing a well-crafted weapon—sleek and lovely and extremely dangerous. She’s inviting him to touch, however, and he does, his hands unsteady as he cups her breasts, nipples tight and pink, the skin unbelievably soft.

She brings his mouth down to them, and he licks and sucks gently at pebbled flesh, glancing up repeatedly to make sure it’s alright, all his attention focused on her. He’s completely unprepared, therefore, for Clint’s hands sneaking around and pinching his nipples sharply, and he jerks, accidentally scraping her with his teeth, making her gasp and pull back.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry—”

Clint laughs and deliberately pinches him again. “Don’t be. She likes it when you’re not quite so careful.”

Steve looks at Natasha, and she smiles and tugs his head back down.

It goes on like that for a while, Clint instructing him how to make Natasha shudder with pleasure while he explores Steve’s body with teasing caresses. By the time he slips two fingers inside her—oh, _oh_ , so this is what it’s like, hot and tight, slick and welcoming—he’s so keyed up that if Clint touches him anywhere near his cock, Steve thinks he might come, a fact that must be readily apparent, because Clint laughs, saying, “Slow down, soldier,” and strokes his arms and chest soothingly. “We don’t want to end things before they even get started.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re not getting the same view I am,” Natasha says, moving his hand away and pushing him back until he’s resting against Clint’s chest. “I’ll bet you five points that Steve’s ready for round two in under three minutes.”

“Five points? Hmm.” Clint grabs him under the chin and tips his head back, studying his flushed face. “You’re right, there’s no way he’s going to be out of it after just one orgasm, but three minutes, you say? I’ll take that bet.”

She smiles fiercely and straddles his hips. “Don’t disappoint me, Steve,” she says, and lowers herself onto his aching cock.

“I won’t,” he promises, gasping as he thrusts up into her wet heat, once, twice, it’s almost distressing how quickly he comes actually, but it’s hard to care when the pleasure crashes through him, so much more intense than any orgasm he’s given himself.

He dimly hears her laughing through the haze, but before he can get embarrassed, she’s saying, “That’s five points you owe me, Clint.”

“Are you fucking serious? Let me see.” Clint smacks his chest. “Well, shit. You just cost me five points, Rogers. You’re going to have to make it up to me now,” he says, kissing Steve thoroughly, only raising his head enough for Steve to pant a dazed “yes.”

“I wasn’t done with him yet.”

“You just got five points; you can wait.”

He’s never done this before—admittedly, he’s never done _any_ of this before—but he understands the general principle, and it’s easier with Clint. He’s not worried about how much pressure to use or if he’s found the right spot, and he _likes_ having Clint’s cock in his mouth, the weight and feel of it, likes Clint’s hands in his hair and hearing Clint’s voice roughen as he says things like, “lick the slit” and “you can use your hands if you can’t take it all,” even if the words themselves make him blush.

It definitely helps to be able to focus on sucking Clint’s cock when Natasha starts stroking his hole, slender, nimble fingers slowly massaging and sliding into him. He’d known intellectually that it must feel good, otherwise, why would people do it, but he hadn’t realized _how_ good it would feel, and Steve can’t stop moaning around the girth in his mouth, humping back against her fingers, his efforts to please Clint turning sloppy and uncoordinated when she grips his cock as well.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Clint pants, his hands clutching Steve’s head, keeping it still while he thrusts up. He’s careful to not choke him, but when Steve’s orgasm overtakes him, he finds himself thinking that it wouldn’t be so bad if he did.

“That was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen,” Clint says a few minutes later as Steve swallows the last of what’s in his mouth, eyelashes still fluttering from the force of his own climax.

Natasha hums an agreement and encourages Steve to roll over. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in betting another—”

“Fool me once,” Clint says lazily, “shame on you. Fool me twice . . .”

“Can’t blame a girl for trying,” she says and laughs when Clint salutes her.

The next time is on his back, his fingers wrapped around Natasha’s thighs as he buries his face between her legs, his face dripping with her juices, slippery and sweet. 

“Just in case,” she’d murmured as she’d settled above him. “You never know when it’ll come in handy.”

Even though he’s new to this, he manages to bring her to orgasm twice by following her husky directions, watching her shudder over him in awe. He can’t help thinking he’d be a better pupil if Clint weren’t using the opportunity to show off his own skills—“This is how it’s done, Rogers,” and Steve can’t even feel bad because Clint has every right to boast. He tries to memorize everything Clint does to use for later. If there is a later. If Tony ever—

“No, no, none of that,” Natasha says, and they pull him into a sitting position, Natasha sinking onto his cock while Clint grinds leisurely against his lower back, twisting his head around in order to exchange slow, deliberate kisses that steal his breath. 

Steve feels surrounded, safe, and he clutches onto the two of them like he’ll never let go.

\-----

“You know, you’re more than welcome back here anytime you’d like,” Natasha tells him the next morning as he gets ready to leave. Clint smirks and waggles his eyebrows next to her, one arm casually hooked around her waist. She’s wearing a lovely little robe and nothing else, and Clint a pair of boxers, and they’re beautiful together for so many different reasons.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, “but I—”

“Just think about it,” Clint interrupts him. “No need to make a decision now. You know where to find us after all.”

“Alright.” He gives them each a soft kiss. “I will.”

As he closes the door behind him, he hears them break out into an argument about who got the most points during the night, and he’s smiling when he turns around and sees Tony staring at him from the end of the hall.

He can feel the blush spreading across his face, because it’s obvious what he’s been up to. Clint and Natasha aren’t exactly being quiet—“C’mon, did you see the way he reacted when I did the tongue thing? That’s gotta be worth at least two points!”—and he’s still wearing his tux from the night before, the shirt unbuttoned halfway and his tie undone, because his room was just a few hallways down, and he’d thought it’d be too early to run into anyone. 

He’s not ashamed of his actions, however, not when Natasha and Clint have been there for him when he's needed it most, so he straightens, lifting his chin, and walks toward Tony. “Good morning,” he says as he passes alongside him.

“Apparently,” Tony says, but there’s a new note in his voice that Steve’s never heard before, something speculative and intrigued. Steve refuses to get his hopes up, but when he glances back as he turns the corner, Tony’s still watching him.


End file.
